Job worthy of Sisyphus
by SCP-blank
Summary: He died and then he woke up, years in the past. Perhaps this time things will be different? Ianto Jones back-in-time story. Warnings: morbid themes, plain story-telling. Starts just before season 1.


**AN:** This is the Ianto-back-in-time story that was collecting dust in my drawer; finally I have decided to post it. Though I would have loved to make it humorous and uplifting, sadly I'm no comedian. I did, however, attempt to make this as realistic as possible. Let me know if I succeeded.

There are surprisingly few fics with the same plot device, though I would recommend a fic by **one-blue-eye**, here on FFnet.

**Warnings:** morbid themes, character death, lack of dialogue.

* * *

_"Don't forget me."_

_"Never could."_

* * *

Ianto felt drowsy. He shuffled a bit, putting his bed covers over his head. Ianto groaned as his muscles reminded him of sores, caused by previous night's activities. As he blinked, adjusting his eyes to bright morning sunlight, memories flooded Ianto's head.

Ianto shot up abruptly, throwing the blanket away, and looked around with frantic gaze; the Welshman's hands were shaking like leaves, legs felt like wool as he tried to get up from the bed and stand up.

He died!

He died in MI5's London headquarters, in the Thames house from gas poisoning just like all other people in it. Ianto had died from biological weapon, used by 456, the alien race, intent on using earth's children to power their drug ring. He died from intergalactic drug dealers, how quaint.

And Jack...

As memories resurfaced, coupled with confusion over his current situation and the hurt, Ianto pretended not to notice his blurry vision as he picket up a nearby picture frame and without glancing at it, threw it against a wall, crumbling to the floor when his legs gave out.

There was no point in all this, Ianto told himself. He was a rational twenty-six year old, without anger management issues, and there were plenty of other productive ways of venting one's frustration.

Ianto tried to convince himself in this, but he was beginning to panick as his surroundings became more and more tangible. The man had no idea how or why he was there. Ianto recognized his Cardiff flat, the one he had rented just after hurriedly leaving London. It was the temporary flat Ianto lived in during his first months in Cardiff, before Lisa's remains attempted to upgrade whole human race into cybermen.

"Oh, God. Lisa-"

Ianto scrambled up and without further thought rushed to the only other room of that miniature apartment. The reason why he had chosen such apartment originally was because it was on the first storey, was cheap and the building's entrance was positioned conveniently enough that no CCTV cameras caught that angle and to Ianto, who had to smuggle a half converted girlfriend, it was a requirement, not a plus. Also, the drug store was nearby if he needed prescription painkillers.

Ianto rushed into the other room, all rational thoughts thrown out of the window. There she was, his once only chance at normal life, among the clutter of electrical equipment, needed to power the conversion unit, trapped inside a machine, only partly human herself.

Lisa was sleeping, he realised, and tears he couldn't bother to control fell as Ianto contained the noisier sobs from bursting.

Ianto bolted to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, intent on washing every hurt away.

After long and torturous cold shower, Ianto, finally feeling like himself again, glanced at the bathroom mirror, recalling why he was feeling so out of it in a first place.

A younger, skinnier version of himself stared back at Ianto, eyes shocked as they marvelled at the sight.

This whole thing was either a hallucination, caused by the 456 gas or it was someone's plot to sabotage Torchwood.

Or maybe it was Purgatory, Ianto pondered; he was not a religious man, but in certain circumstances-, and it was agonizing enough...

Ianto grimaced at his reflection and left the bathroom, the view spinning slightly, as if he was a bit tipsy.

Ianto made his way back to the bedroom and sluggishly took out his diary; he was long past the phase of denying its purpose, like his younger self did. At some point Ianto had tried to convince himself it was a journal, just a normal handwritten account of his life's events, because apparently 'real men did not have diaries'. Of course that argument began to look hypocritical around the time he began fooling around with Harkness, because by the same logic men didn't get off by another men's actions or didn't get 'involved', like the two of them did.

Ianto exhaled angrily, and searched for a pen. Before ink touched the paper, however, he read the diary's latest entries, his heart clenching at each mention of Lisa; how wonderful, amazing, unbelievable she was, or more recently, how cruel the universe could be for damaging her this way.

The Welshman had no idea why or how he was there, in the past. His mind supplied no credible explanation for what the hell was going on but if his years at Torchwood taught him anything, if Jack had taught him anything, it was that panicking and making up various horrible scenarios was a disastrous idea.

Ianto calmed himself down and with slight tremor in his hand began writing down everything he remembered, from the day Jack finally relented and hired him, to the day Ianto died in his arms, weak and pathetic.

If this was a chance for Ianto to fix it all, he was going to make it count, make sure Ianto was ready for all the horrors and challenges to come.

It took about seven hours to write his complete recollection down, by the end his hand was barely functioning. Ianto might have had a photographic memory, making it easier to remember visuals but with cluttered confused mind, his formerly dead no a ticking-bomb of a disaster girlfriend in a room next to his, it was extremely difficult to concentrate.

Ianto prided himself on being a pedant, always tidy and in control, always details oriented and yet, in order to make sure he recorded as much as he could manage, Ianto wrote down only basic facts, point by point detailing his life at Torchwood three without sentimental comments or his opinions.

The most important points, which he circled, were the following:

-Suzie and the glove, Emily Dickens code, the trigger guy from Pilgrim.

-Captain John Hart, radiation cluster bombs (trap)

-Pharm, miracle cure, Owen gets shot

-Captain John Hart again, Grey, Tosh and Owen die.

-456, Thames house, Frobisher's a doublecrosser.

After some consideration, he also circled this:

-Himalayas (fake alarm), minister of defense - crazy alien, Jack with the Doctor.

He reviewed all the points with dissatisfaction marring his face.

"I have to think this through. Think, Ianto, think..." Ianto muttered under his breath, but before any plan started webbing itself in his mind, moans from the other room reached Ianto, alerting him that Lisa or what was left of her had woken up and was feeling immense agony.

After a minute of hesitation, Ianto put the diary under the mattress and grabbed a jumper from the nightstand, putting it on. Then he went to Lisa's room, getting once more greeted with the sight of the only woman he ever loved fastened to a cybermen's conversion unit.

"Ah... Hurts, Ianto-" Lisa managed to get out, despite all the pain she was feeling.

Ianto rushed to her side, grabbing a shot of painkillers from the nearby stand.

"I know, Lisa, I know." He mumbled soothingly and with determination, which he distantly recalled lacking the first time round, shoved the needle into her subclavian vein, which was thankfully not covered by the metal cyber parts and for the medical experience that gave him enough confidence to attempt it, despite challenging angle he had to use in order to bypass bones.

Using IV therapy would have been million times easier if her arms weren't almost fully covered. Ianto recalled the previous time when he made her drink painkillers because administering morphing to abdominal vena cava, which proved to be ineffective, perhaps because of incorrect insertion or by interference cause by cyber implants.

It wasn't long until Lisa feel asleep under the influence of morphine, while Ianto contemplated the fact that he had enough of morphine for it to be a lethal dose.

Lisa wouldn't feel a thing, she would just fall asleep eternally, never to wake up again. That way she would get the passing she deserved, without getting her image tarnished by the actions, cause by the cyber parts.

Hands shaking, Ianto put the needle aside, hastily leaving her room, shredded with guilt.

Eventually Ianto ran out of ideas how to deal with Lisa. He knew it was almost impossible that she could be cured, but despite whatever his former (future?!) colleague Gwen Cooper thought about Torchwood destroying their humanity, Ianto was confident he could not kill Lisa with cold blood if there was even a slimmer of hope left.

Armed with a flask of black coffee that he usually avoided for it wasn't his taste, Ianto planned and plotted ways of finding some base for his presumptions.

Ianto decided it was too real and vivid to be a dream or a hallucination but the only equipment, which could confirm this was in the hub of Torchwood Cardiff, few feet underground and very unavailable to him at the moment.

Sighing, he pondered about becoming tea-boy once more, and though he certainly missed his friends and being able to assist in saving the world, there were a lot of issues and bittersweet memories, making that choice less desirable.

He had already decided to keep quiet about his disposition to everyone, as not to get killed, imprisoned or get his memories erased.

After all, at this point of his life, Jack Harkness, the only one who could possibly understand what Ianto was going through, had no idea who Ianto Jones even was and, Ianto though, without doubt, Jack wouldn't hesitate to retcon or sent to Unit prison anyone who claimed to know him well and proceed to tell Jack about certain details of his past that the latter thought were buried deep.

Eventually, as it started to get dark outside, Ianto injected another dose of morphine into Lisa and, putting on some casual clothes, got out of that depressing little apartment, with a wallet full of cash and a clear intention of getting himself drunk into oblivion at the nearest pub possible.

* * *

It was only after he drank numerous perry cider and Welsh whiskey cocktails that Ianto finally left the bar stool and went to a corner booth with his Guinness, sinking into the leather clad seat like a dead weight because of his exhaustion.

He was so absentminded that he didn't even notice a figure, sneaking up to him until it spoke.

"Can I read your cards?" A child's voice woke Ianto from his slumber. In the dark lighting of the slightly shady pub, the small, unassuming girl did not stand out untill she began staring at anyone with her drilling gaze.

He inspected her for a while, his eyes stopping at the red tarot cards she held in her tiny hands.

And then he remembered.

Jack had once mentioned her, Faith, supposedly.

When his mind connected the dots, Ianto gaped at her for a while but the girl didn't wait for him to gather his wits nad answer and she sat down on the nearest cushion, shuffling her cards like a pro.

Ianto knew his was drunk when he saw that his relection was smiling at the creepy and unsettling sight, at least that could be the only explanation.

Because the scene was as thought straight from the script of a horror movie.

"Wheel, crossroads, danger." She told him as she dealt him the seance. Ianto stared at the last card waiting for her to continue telling his fortune.

"You're back at the beginning and you have many choices to make." She stopped. "It won't be easy."

Their gazes stayed locked for some time untill he looked away, and asked her:

"How is any of this possible?" He motioned with his hand around, making clear that he wasn't merely talking about fortune-telling.

The psychic girl simply smirked and drew another card.

It was a picture of dice and for some reason it really freaked Ianto out.

The girl nodded her assent to Ianto's fear and stood up to leave, however he stopped her.

"Wait. Is there any way to save her? Please, I have to know."

The psychic girl only gathered her cards and left the pub. Ianto stared at the place she disappeared from for a long time before he closed his eyes and finished his beer in one sip.

Ianto was about to leave a tip and go back to the flat, when instead of taking out his wallet he took out a red tarot card.

He hesitated before turning it upwards. It was a picture of a brick wall. Ianto grabbed the table to stop him from swaying.

It was clear. There was no way to save Lisa, but at least, Ianto swore to himself, this time she will die with dignity.

* * *

Jack felt chilly. He yawned, blinking; the place he was in was unfamiliar, he could easily tell this by the red silk bed sheets and pink wallpaper.

It was clearly his last nigh lay's place and the said lay was a woman, who was lying next to him, still not rising from sleep, most likely exhausted by the previous night's activities.

Just another notch in his hypothetical bedpost, then.

Captain Jack Harkness smirked to himself as he slinked away from the bed as quietly as he could and tried to beat his record by dressing up hastily.

Jack was going through a blonde phase it seemed, judging from the blonde head sticking out from the covers.

See, Captain Jack Harkness, for better or for worse remained to be seen, was immortal and had been so for almost a century and a half, ever since his vortex manipulator burned out, leaving him stuck on Earth of 1869, at a place were a rift of time and space ran - Cardiff, Wales.

Since then Jack rarely traveled outside the rift zone, hoping to meet the doctor and get the answer to his predicament, as eventually the doctor will have to go there to refuel and yet... Jack was getting bored and frustrated in this uncultured hell hole, filled with backward sheep shaggers and prudes to a fault.

Well, Wales wasn't so bad, but Jack had a lot of anger to vent and it was a convenient target.

Despite what Jack had told to his current teammates, claiming that Cardiff was a dream town, filled with gorgeous people with arousing Welsh accents, Jack was sick of it all.

The century has already turned and his Doctor did not show up. The only sightings of Doctor at this time were of the Doctor that was yet to meet Jack. These sightings occurred mostly in London, the most recent one being at the Canary Warf (And asides from agonizing over Rose Tyler's name in the deceased list of Canary Warf's casualties, Jack only thought that Torchwood London's demise was a good riddance).

So, being immortal, charismatic, and a very bored man, Jack had from time to time created various games to make himself entertained.

Even sex got boring and repetitive after a while.

Until Jack's previous teammate, Kathy, one of those who were killed by Alex Hopkins, had noticed Jack's tendency to go through phases, he had no idea that he had cravings, she'd likened them to that of a pregnant womans.

In short, Jack went through certain phases. Sometimes after a particularly nasty job he would go to a pub and look for anyone that would catch his eye, the said type becoming his current flavour. And though personally it mattered Jack little what was their gender, most often they were females simply because they were easier to bed.

Usually Jack, once he had chosen and seduced his 'target', would accompany them to their place, after all, Jack did live in the headquarters of a secret organization and retconning his sexual partners felt too much like dubious consent and violation of their rights.

Besides, Jack was sure they were better off remembering the night spent with him, since it was a pleasant rub to his ego to know that he had taught somebody such vital skills.

He didn't bother to leave a note of explanation or a note with his number on it. As Jack went out, he realised it was a block of flats, which escaped him last night when he was too drunk to notice it. As he climbed downstairs, an old woman let out her cat, frowning at Jack's appearance and muttering disapprovingly in Welsh.

The Language barrier was another reason Jack waited impatiently for his Doctor. Welsh language was impossible to understand or learn and Jack, having eternity at his fingertips, was in no rush to figure it out. Sometimes Jack wondered if some alien race had arrived in this region ages ago and humans merely copied their language, which to Jack (Who spoke only Galactic Standard and Old English, minimum language requirements to get into the Time Agency, and select few phrases in Italian, German and Hindi that he learned from necessity) was incomprehensible.

Jack was especially thwarted by Welsh road signs, which in some areas had no translation in English.

So, despite living in Cardiff, the capital of Wales, for over a century, Jack still didn't know a single word in Welsh language and felt no hurry to learn it.

As Jack rushed out the building and glanced around, taking in his surroundings and figuring out where he was headed, Jack took a turn at the nearest corner and collided with another male in a dull thud, almost causing them to fall over.

"Fuck!" Jack's obstacle swore and glared up to him. Jack, who was blatantly admiring the man's strong legs, revealed by shorts that reached just over his knees, missed the myriad of emotions crossing the man's face.

It was a wide palette: anger, hurt, love, lust, pain, fear.

Ianto Jones, mentally cursing his bad luck and random chances that universe seemed to be throwing at him lately, schooled his expression into one of mild amusement; a mask of curled lips and raised left eyebrow.

"It's rude to stare, you know." He told Jack, shaking the immortal man from his musings.

"Just enjoying the view." Jack leered, his expression so familiar to Ianto that it made his heart clench and at the same time feel unbalanced and frustrated.

In his previous life that leer when addressed to him, used to make Ianto blush, and it took a long time and constant exposure to Jack till he became immune to it, but now Ianto only fixed his face in a blank mask, appearing unaffected.

"I doubt your latest contest enjoys it." He commented as he noticed a red-faced stomping blonde, heading Jack's way with a murderous intent clear in her eyes, creepily drowned in the watery maskara.

Jack glanced over his shoulder, and, looking like a deer in the headlights, pushed Ianto in front of him as a shield.

"Thanks." Jack threw to Ianto the word offhandedly as he ran away from an unpleasant drama.

'Yes,' Jack thought. 'females might be easier to bed but the aftermath is much too complicated unlike with men. Maybe I'll go after someone like that Welshman next.'

* * *

It was late in the evening when Ianto mustered courage to do what was necessary.

During the day, once the morphine wore off and she woke up, he had also told Lisa that he loved her.

Some part of him did, still, despite what had happened in his previous lifetime and Ianto desperately hoped that this Lisa was aware enough to acknowledge his words. That somehow Lisa Hallet would know that this was his goodbye.

The two talked about mundane things, reminiscing about their inane bosses at Torchwood London, and only when Lisa told him she was tired again, Ianto injected her with enough of morphine to make her fall asleep.

Little tremors were passing his hands as Ianto disconnected the extension cable, supplying energy to the conversion unit, energy that was enough to power the device but did not make Lisa comfortable.

There was a faint noise, almost like a groan, as the device broke down. Ianto Jones swallowed his doubt, guilt and pain and after pecking Lisa's lips one last time, he stuck a needle to her abdominal vein, administering a lethal dose of morphine.

"Pull yourself together, Jones." He told himself and forced his limbs to stop trembling or at least tried to.

Lisa Hallet was dead.

And despite his confusion over being back in the past and whether it was real or not, the young archivist felt he made the right if not the easy choice.

He consoled himself by the thought that at least second time round Lisa left this world not as a killer but as someone who was beloved.

* * *

Ianto had at least three shots of vodka (he wasn't counting) before he had enough courage to pry Lisa's body apart from the cyber parts and the conversion unit.

He tried using a screwdriver to unscrew the cyber parts, however he ended up having to use a hammer and an electric knife to free the corpse. To mask the noise Ianto had covered the walls with foam, but he wasn't sure how effective it was so Ianto tried to do his job as fast as he could. In addition he played some music from his laptop, hoping it would mask the left over noise.

Ianto was different from the one he saw in his reflection. He was a jaded, angry man and currently only blood, gore and nightmares cluttered his mind. He managed to pry Lisa away from the mechanic parts easily enough.

Ianto then proceeded dividing what was left of the machine into pieces of reasonable size so that he could bury them separately in small graves. To mask the scent of blood he sprayed bleach onto those parts, that way making sure no curious animals would dug them up.

* * *

It was midnight. The night was pitch-dark and dead silent.

Ianto had tampered with the nearby post lamps the previous night so as to make sure he wouldn't get caught by curious insomniac neighbours.

Ianto took a white bed sheet and wrapped Lisa's dried body in it. He put parts of the cyber tech into trash bags. The state of his floor was so-so as Ianto bothered to cover it with wrapping plastic he used to wrap some items when he moved to Cardiff.

After placing the trash bags and carrying Lisa's corpse into his Audi as stealthily as he managed, Ianto sat down in it and drove off.

As he drove, Ianto tried to distract himself from his loss by considering burning Lisa's remains in the recreation of a scene from one of the greatest movies of all time by driving to a forest and creating a huge fire upon which he would then place Lisa, fastened to horizontal logs.

The thought almost made him smile but his rational part butted in, shoving hard facts. The stench of burning flesh was distinctive and extremely unpleasant, Ianto knew this from experience. The young archivist had decided that it didn't matter if his experiences as Torchwood three operative hadn't happened; he remembered them so they were real.

In any case, burning Lisa's body out in the open was the equivalent of putting an add in a newspaper, telling what, when and where he was doing.

And Ianto had no wish to get imprisoned, not ever.

To prevent it, Ianto figured another way. He looked up crematoriums that were within a few hour drive from Cardiff and decided to break in and used the facilities to burn Lisa's body and bury the cyber parts somewhere nearby.

The drive to crematorium took a few long hourse. It was build in a remote area, in the already damaged part of national Brecon Beacons park's part. The building was fenced in and there were few cameras around it, looking for any intruders; the crematorium was white, stood in the middle of a vast field and Ianto smelled a distinctive, yet indescribable scent coming from it.

It took about an hour to disable the alarm and cameras and sneak Lisa's corpse and sufficient amount of fuel oil, that was required to burn a body up.

Thankfully there were no guards circling the place and the only one, sitting in the monitoring room, was already asleep, so Ianto only administered enough of morphine into his system so that the poor guy would sleep way into the day.

The crematory was a relatively complicated machine but Ianto, being smart and resourceful enough, had figured out how to operate it.

In the room where the crematory resided, the distinctive smell had intensified. He realised it was the filtrated air from the combustion chamber.

It took a little over an hour to cremate Lisa's remains. Ianto gathered all the ashes he could and got out of that creepy place, making sure to leave no evidence of a break in.

The drive home felt faster, perhaps because vodka was wearing off and Ianto's mind was sharp and aware now. The sun was about to rise and Ianto was driving home in twilight.

Ianto was musing what he would do next when few hundred feet ahead he saw a forest and decided to stop the car and bury the cyber parts there.

Had the Welshman not been distracted by the fact that he had just cremated the only woman he had ever loved unconditionally, Ianto would have recognized the forest.

He stopped the car and got out of it, a shovel in one hand and trash bags filled with pieces of alien equipment in the other, intent on buried said parts forever.

It was a forest near village, called Brynblaidd, where over the years outsiders had disappeared again and again.

* * *

Captain Jack Harkness was munching on his apple in slow motion, almost contemplatively, creating a parody of a twenty first century Thinker, almost worth the sweat of Rodin.

Jack's second-in-command, Suzie Costello, was using soldering-iron to repair some alien junk; of course Jack didn't bother to tell her that the item even before breaking was useless; she was just so into her job, unlike his other employee, Owen Harper.

Currently the doctor was pretending to examine some alien goo while it took only an observant glance to notice that he was drinking beer from his 'secret' stash.

Jack thought it funny how Owen pretended to be a professional.

"Jack!" Toshiko Sato, his tech wiz, urgently called him. Jack stood up from the ugly sofa he was lounging on (Oh, the power of being the boss and not the employee) and rushed to her side.

"Tosh? What is it?" He inquired and she replied, words pouring from her mouth like a torrent during a flood.

"Cardiff's police caught five people for cannibalism. Apparently some people disappeared around their village time and again."

Jack felt so disgusted he didn't notice Owen, who came up to them, scowling.

"Only in bloody Wales." He commented but Jack paid him no attention.

"Good for the force for being useful but why do you sound like it's an emergency, Tosh?" Jack asked, and Tosh pointed to one of the screens, displaying a photograph of a twenty something guy that seemed vaguely familiar to Jack.

"The man who helped to catch them claims to work for Torchwood. He's currently giving his statement in the central police station."

Jack straightened out, his brows burrowing as he recalled the man he had collided with few days ago.

"What's his name?" He asked, his voice alert.

"Ianto Jones." Tosh retorted.

"Oh, that's so rich. Here it's like John Smith-" Owen interjected, sneering. "Are you sure it's his real name?"

"If he knows about Torchwood, there's a possibility his records appear to be completely legit." Tosh replied. "If they're not, I still need a while to dug his real identity up."

"I want you to find everything you can about this 'Jones' while I'll go to the police station and collect my 'employee'. Call me as soon as you have something crucial." Jack ordered and rushed out, grabbing his RAF coat on his way.

* * *

Constable Cooper, a beat cop, was curious. There he was, a young, attractive young man, clad in a wrinkled, bloodied black suit, talking with Welsh accent and yet somehow managing to appear posh and sophisticated.

She marveled at the fact that this guy had, allegedly, managed to outsmart and overpower a whole clan of cannibals that was under police's radar since the said tradition's beginning and would have likely to remained there if this Jones character hadn't been attacked. As far as she heard, he managed to survive because he was familiar with tight situations, being an employee at Torchwood.

To summarise, Gwen was curious and in awe. Cooper herself didn't know a thing about Torchwood, but from the way her superiors were acting it seemed this organization was disliked there.

However, Ianto Jones was polite and charming as he answered all the questions willingly. It seemed even Swanson was impressed.

As Gwen inched closer, she overheard them talking, though it seemed all serious talk was already finished.

"I'm sorry, but your jacket is a piece of evidence." DI Swanson said amused, though she held out her hand waiting for said item.

"I completely understand, Detective." He said, smiling and Gwen stifled a laugh when she saw Swanson's abashed expression.

The two exchanged pleasantries and as Jones was on his way outside, Gwen, mustering courage, had stopped him.

"Yes?" Jones inquired, his tone vacant of any expression.

"Constable Gwen Cooper." She introduced herself, confused about how to act around him.

"Ms Cooper." Jones inclined his head. "Did you want to ask me something?" His voice was calm and collected, though unbeknownst to Gwen, Ianto was experiencing an emotional rollercoaster over seeing her once more at this time.

Gwen, who had never faced anything more frightening than a pub brawl gone wrong, was shocked how a guy younger than her could act so calm when he faced such inhuman gore.

"How can you be so calm? Those -" She struggled to find the right word.

"Monsters."

"Monsters, exactly... They were eating people, regularly! And you yourself were almost dinner but here you are..."

The more she talked, the more agitated Gwen became. Finally Ianto sighed and stepped closer to her, putting his hand on her shoulder in a soothing manner.

"Mis Cooper, Gwen, some people are born sick and twisted, and there is no point in trying to explain their behavior or excuse it. The best you can do is to go drink some tea and forget all about it. They aren't worth you loosing sleep." Jones's voice had a lulling effect and Gwen felt the majority of the tension go away, though she still had a lot of questions, unfortunately she wasn't going to get the answers today.

The moment was interrupted by a man, clearing his throat behind them. Both the constable and the hero of the day turned to the noise, almost in sync. He was a handsome middle-aged man, wearing military dress of some sorts - a grey woollen coat. Gwen wondered who he was, but not for long.

"Captain Harkness." Ianto intoned monotonously, both in tone and in stance differing from the way he held himself when interacting with Gwen.

'This must be his boss, then.' Gwen thought.

The two men stared each other down for a while before the Captain addressed Jones.

"Come with me, Ianto Jones."

The young Welshman patted Gwen's shoulder in passing, muttering her to get that tea and he followed his boss out of the station.

* * *

Jack without armour was miles away from Jack the Captain.

Ianto pondered which version was more real before deciding that as Jack Harkness was a mere alias, there was no way of telling who the man actually was deep down.

Once outside in the police station's parking lot, Ianto made a move towards his green Audi but Jack blocked his path.

"Ianto Jones, junior archivist at now non-existant Torchwood London, one of the twenty-seven survivors of the battle of canary wharf." Jack's tone and pose was intent to intimidate Ianto but the latter merely raised his eyebrows ironically and attempted to circumvent Jack.

"Where do you thing you're going?" Harkness demanded, grabbing Jones's arm.

"Well, Captain, I'm going to go home, get changed into my pyjamas and sleep through the whole day. You, however, are welcome to waste your time spying on me if you feel like it." All this he said in one breath, the whole while inching closer and closer to Jack, his warm breath ghosting Jack's lips.

Momentarily distracted by the sight of plump, pink lips, and a handsome guy pressed to him chest to chest, Jack didn't notice Ianto's diversion. As Jack's mind flooded with pleasant, but not classy images, Ianto made his way to his car and drove away without any delay.

Cursing Jack shook his head to clear it. Ianto Jones was more than a mere archivist it seemed.

According to Tosh's description, which she relayed on the phone, Jack had expected a paper pushed who was at the wrong place at the wrong time and simply got lucky capturing those cannibals.

In reality, judging by Jones's rumpled appearance and shredded shirt, he had fought said cannibals on his own. Along with the compassion Jack witnessed when he saw Jones interacting with that good looking copper, it was clear that Jones had a lot of different sides to him.

Cursing his hormones for getting the better of him once more, Jack crawled into the SUV, his mind racing.

* * *

The surveillance Torchwood team had set up to his flat revealed that Ianto Jones was a man of his word, because he had done exactly what he said he would; he went home, changed and plummeted to his bed with abandon.

The apartment was cramped with boxes that indicated recent relocation, one window was covered with them straight to the ceiling, it seemed.

It took three hours for the team to decide that checking up on Jones remotely was enough, because he certainly wasn't going to wake up any time soon.

* * *

"Do you think he'll cause us problems?" Owen inquired once the whole Torchwood team was sitting in the conference room.

"I don't - know." Jack replied, unsure.

Usually he could read people easily and since Jones was Torchwood London, and Jack had never hesitated before pointing out One's shortcomings, especially since their greediness had cost him one Rose Tyler, Jack should have claimed him to be a threat that had to be eliminated.

And yet there was something fishy about him, Jack had to find out more about him.

"How do you suppose we deal with him?" Suzie asked crankily, as she was annoyed to be distracted from her current research and wanted this delay gone immediately. "Retcon?" She asked but her other teammates shook heads.

"We would have to use a triple dosage and retcon him to at least his teens." Tosh said.

"No, the drug won't work. He's one of London's, chances are he has triggers only accessible to him."

Jack sighed when three pairs of eyes focused on him, inquisitively.

"What about.." Suzie trailed down, moving her hand frustrated. "You know.."

Jack shook his head in negative. Killing Jones was, of course, the easiest but not the right way.

"For the time being, Tosh, monitor the surveillance footage."

Tosh nodded her assent and they went each back to their independent projects.

Owen, who went back to the med bay, felt impressed. Though he wouldn't admit it, he read the police report on Jones, and apparently the guy had handled all the cannibals by himself without any weapons and even killed one of them with his bare hands before he even contacted the police.

Owen, who might have taken Jack's dislike towards everything connected to Torchwood London a tad too much and became an avid hater himself, mused that anyone who could make Jack speechless was a sight worth seeing.

At least this Ianto Jones promised some entertainment. Things were going slow in Torchwood these days.


End file.
